Of Circuitry and Catastrophe
by astheclockticks
Summary: Amelia Penn, the head personality programmer for the Rabbit servo department of Clover Tower Industries, ironically, hates robots. When a malfunction in her emotional system appears that could ruin her career- and worse yet, the reputation of her company- She's forced to take in model #3-1-1-0-7-3, or Elliot March- a robot who's convinced he's human- to find out what caused it.


"We here at Clover Tower Industries take pride in quality over quantity. Unlike our competitors, we aim to bring you the best-quality, most customizable product possible- with the highest-quality parts and programming, and the finest customer service in the industry."

Chipped painted fingertips drummed lightly on the table, so softly it only made the slightest of noises, barely audible, a fidgeting motion.

"With our award-winning technology, we've taken the industry by storm- we're number-one in consumer servos, known well for our commitment both to quality and affordability."

Mr. Gottschalk was _remarkably_ good at public speaking whenever it involved something that inflated his own ego, the woman drumming her fingertips couldn't help but think. She smirked at herself, lightly thankful that the man wasn't a mind-reader- because he never had to know she thought that.

"Of course, not all products can initially be affordable, and we know that well- we prefer to balance the two, when at all possible, but in this venture in particular, we at Clover Tower Industries have decided it would be best not to compromise quality of parts."

Of course, she would most likely tell him that she thought that, anyways, because maybe he _needed_ to be brought down a peg.

"Thus, whine these servos in particular- due to their size- are particularly expensive, we believe it is especially worth it. We have built many hyper-realistic servos of varying size before- Wonderland line is still popular to this date, the three best-selling being our feline, canine, and rabbit models- but we are here today to bring you, perhaps, a different kind of rabbit."

How many times had she been through this spiel in the week? Between the business meetings and the press conferences, she was thinking she was beginning to lose count. These were, of course, never to be videotaped or recorded- the consumer commercial would be released later in the week, which is what she'd heard five times from the head of the advertising department every time _he_ had managed to blow off taking part. (She still didn't know exactly how that related.)

She perked up her head forcibly as Nightmare brought up the image on the screen- of a man, pale-skinned and Adonis-handsome, hair white and neat around his face- he had circular glasses, and by all means, he looked to be a regular human being- if it weren't for the fact that his eyes were blood red and on top of his silvery-white hair was a pair of rabbit ears, realistic down to the last detail.

This wasn't the first successful servo in the line they'd created, but he was certainly the most presentable. He looked, especially in the red gingham check jacket they had put him in for the presentation, straight out of a children's book, and the ears didn't help.

"I, Nightmare Gottschalk, head of Clover Tower industries, am here today to reveal to you- the newest and most impressive in our line of servos. This Rabbit line, named merely for the ears belonging to its first model, is high-quality, hyper-realistically humanoid, and highly customizable. From its appearance down to its personality, your Rabbit servo is completely within your control."

There was a quiet cacophony of hushed whispering coming from the audience, likely because the development of such robots had been kept highly under wraps.

"We'd like to bring him out now, to show you all the capabilities these new models hold." Nightmare said, gesturing to a seat- where, unbeknownst to the audience until precisely three seconds ago, the robot had been sitting the entire time, ears rather haphazardly hidden by a beanie held over his head.

He smiled over at Nightmare, nodding his head lightly. "Hello, Mr. Gottschalk."

"Hello to you as well." He replied- and the woman, from where she sat in the audience, could almost hear his ego inflating from the ooh it drew from the crowd, how smoothly the robot walked and talked. "Now, Peter, please tell us your name and serial number."

"My name is Peter White, and I am serial number 3-1-2-1-4-3." Peter explained chipperly, tone remarkably smooth. He sounded human, and he looked human.

Nightmare looked out to the audience again. "Each Rabbit servo is given a name- which is fully customizable by you- and a serial number that defines it from every other servo. Your servo's serial number and a special four-digit code that you assign to them can be used for anything from customizing their system to tracking them in case you may ever lose them. Now, Peter, tell us more about how we can customize you?"

"My system can be customized in many ways- I am programmed with lights that distinguish me from humans with the push of a button, and you may make those any color that you wish, from white to red. You can customize individual colors, such as the color of my computing menus, to the color of my system unlock screen."

It was like watching a person who was all-too-chipper for their situation and likely on drugs, the woman thought, huffing lightly as the glow of Peter's computing menu lit up the stage, red in color, showing off the effect rather well.

"Speaking of the unlock screen- Peter, I'd like to demonstrate. Please turn to face the audience."

"Understood." Peter affirmed, turning around.

The funniest thing, perhaps, about the servo, was the dumb little tails they had- and Peter's was cute and rather fluffy, matching his children's storybook-like demeanor to the letter.

Nightmare cleared his throat. "Peter, I'd like to access your system settings."

From his back, an unlock menu glowed- it floated, a holographic screen in mid-air, glowing white, unlike Peter's computing menu, again demonstrating this.

"All I have to do is enter my simple four-digit code." Nightmare said, quickly tapping four buttons. The screen briefly turned pink before expanding, showing off one big screen.

The woman, from where she sat at her desk, leaned on her hands, feeling herself dozing off.

It was all too easy, with the lulling, level tones of Peter and Nightmare's voices, businesslike and dry, playing in the background...Her eyelids closed slowly.

"...And that's where our personality programmer, Amelia Penn, comes into play."

The woman's head shot up- just as quickly as she thought she'd closed her eyes, suddenly, she shot up again, snapping to attention and attempting to not look like she'd just been falling asleep in the middle of the press conference.

"As our lead personality programmer, she works _tirelessly_," Nightmare enunciated that last part clearly, as if to somehow excuse the fact that she had been sleeping on the job. "with the goal of delivering high-quality, psychology-based personality traits that differentiate each robot from the other. For over three long years of constant work, this system has been in development, and to see it put into practice- to such a customizable degree, is nothing less than impressive."

There were a few familiar screenshot sounds and Amelia smiled, looking out at the audience and giving a wave- there were way too many cameras to even think about looking at just one.

"Joker, who has worked very closely with Amelia to implement the personality program, is responsible for their system of cognitive thought- their calculative ability is all thanks to his genius work."

_Bullshit_, Amelia thought.

Joker was actually The _Jokers_, and they were two twins, but no one had to know that, which was their excuse for not showing up together- they were identical down to the eyepatches they both wore, only distinguishable in personality. They were similar enough that they switched places rather frequently, so one could work and the other could make public appearances.

She wasn't certain which twin this was here today, because even with their distinct personalities, they both had an irritating charm to them that was remarkably similar.

As Nightmare continued to go on about her coworkers' contributions, Amelia slowly let his words run over her head completely, feeling her eyes start to droop again.

It would be fine if she'd put her head down for just one moment, right?

...Right?

* * *

><p><em>((AN: This entire chapter just serves as a small teaser for what's soon to come...soonish. If you're worried about Peter's mischaracterization thus far, I assure you, that issue will be rectified rather quickly, so fear not! There is a reason for it. All chapters to follow will be longer, and betterer, and less focused on worthless exposition, I promise.))_


End file.
